


My Heart in Your Hands

by sidneycarter



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo Collection [1]
Category: Father Brown (2013)
Genre: Drunkenness, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending, Light Angst, M/M, Misunderstandings, Romance, bunty and sid being best bros, sid is a silly boy, very very very brief mention of blood, very very very brief mention of parental loss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:54:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25248763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sidneycarter/pseuds/sidneycarter
Summary: Sid sees Inspector Sullivan with a beautiful woman.
Relationships: Sid Carter/Inspector Sullivan
Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo Collection [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1829203
Comments: 3
Kudos: 56





	My Heart in Your Hands

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first bingo square for the bad things happen bingo! this is for 'stumbling and staggering' (you can see the full bingo card under the 'bthb' tag on my tumblr: @/sidneycarter)  
> i know a lot of this fandom are hurt/comfort luvvers and we love some sid whump, so i hope you enjoy this! this is mostly emotional pain bc i had to make sid cry at some point, even tho i hate it. i just want them to be happy!   
>  i originally planned for most of these to be mini writing exercises/drabbles, but before i knew it this one was 3k so here ya go.

“I’m too hot.” Bunty whines as she leans back against a redbrick wall near the churchyard. She fans herself with her clutch bag. 

“That’s ‘cuz you’re ridiculously overdressed for the weather.” Sid says, perched atop the wall. He throws seeds from the overhanging tree down on to her head. 

“Sidney Carter!” Bunty scolds, picking the bits out and folding her arms. “Stop it! Anyway, this jacket is new, and it’s from _Liberty_ , so you can best believe I’ll be wearing it all through summer, no matter the weather.” 

Sid snorts and checks his watch. “We’re supposed to be leaving in ten minutes - how long does one bleedin’ flower arrangement take?” 

Father Brown and Mrs McCarthy are in the church, making last minute preparations for a wedding tomorrow. Bunty and Sid _had_ been helping, but they were apparently causing far too much trouble and so were dismissed to wait outside. They’re supposed to be driving to Montague House for tea with Lady Felicia sometime soon. 

“You know Mrs M - nothing short of perfection suffices.” Bunty rolls her eyes. 

They fall back in to companionable silence, quite content with people watching on the busy main street. It’s amazing how a bit of sunny weather brings out the entire village. 

After a few minutes, Bunty gasps and lowers her sunglasses. She squints, peering up the street. “I say, is that the Inspector?” 

“Hm?” Sid says, suddenly feeling a lot more alert. 

“There! Look!” Bunty gestures with a tilt of her head. 

She’s right. It is the Inspector. Inspector Sullivan is strolling down Kembleford main street, smiling, laughing and looking as handsome as ever. 

It’s unusual to see the Inspector looking so happy.Sid’s heart flips over in his chest.

But then his stomach drops like he’s missed the bottom step on the stairs. His mind slowly registers why Sullivan is so cheery. 

The Inspector is walking arm in arm with a beautiful woman. She’s a little shorter than him, with perfectly curled dark hair and red lips that could rival Bunty’s. She leans close to him, giggling at something he’s said, and she squeezes his arm. 

Sullivan seems relaxed with her. Completely taken in, even. Like nothing in the world matters now she’s on his arm. 

And Sid, poor, _poor_ Sid, feels his heart shatter in to a thousand tiny little pieces. 

He watches them walk round the corner, heart clenching, until they disappear out of sight. They’re probably headed to the police cottage. 

He only looks away when he feels a gentle hand placed against his knee. 

“I’m sorry, Sid.” Bunty says softly. She looks shocked, and a little confused even. 

She doesn’t _know_ how he feels about the Inspector, not in an official sense at least. He’s never said anything directly, but Sid knows that she understands. She’s always been able to read him, ever since they were younger, pretending to be a daring duo exploring the unchartered lands of the Montague estate. Bunty is an equally astute observer as her aunt, and Sid knows she will have picked up on the shy smiles and stolen moments. 

He places his hand over hers for a second, grateful for the support. “You won’t say anything, will you?” He whispers.

“Of course not.” Bunty smiles gently and warmly. “Daring Duo Carter and Windermere take their secrets to the grave.”

————

“Oh, _bugger_.” Sid nearly falls down the steps outside the Red Lion. 

It’s 8pm, but the sky has barely darkened as they head deeper into summer. Sid is spectacularly drunk. 

After they’d had tea at Lady Felicia’s, he’d made a beeline for the pub. He knows the others are worried about him - he hadn’t been himself at tea. He’d barely touched his cakes and hadn’t made any snarky remarks towards Flambeau - even when the man himself was encouraging it. 

Father Brown had been throwing him concerned glances the entire time, and had requested that Sid stay in his room at the Presbytery tonight. He’d made some thin excuse about the roof leaking every morning, but Sid knows it’s just because he wants to keep an eye on him. 

Bunty had caught his arm as they were leaving, demanding that he meets her tomorrow morning in the church yard so they can talk about the whole thing properly. He’d nodded half-heartedly, and set off for the pub. 

Now, the world is tilting dangerously in front of him. He’d forgotten how hard the Red Lion regulars could sink their beer, and Sid is a little out of practice. He doesn’t want to think _why_ his behaviour has been reigned in over these past few months. 

Sid starts his walk home on very unsteady legs. He’s lucky it’s a quiet evening, because he’s careering all over the place, stepping off the pavement carelessly. He bumps off a wall as he rounds the corner on to the cobbled main street, and immediately trips over his own feet. 

“Ah. Ouch.” He curses to himself. His knees hurt, and his hands are a little scraped, but the alcohol is numbing the pain fairly well. 

It’s not doing so well at masking the pain in his chest, though. Maybe he was just naive, Sid thinks as he chokes back a sob. Maybe it was wishful thinking. He’d hoped, wondered, wished, that maybe those moments with Inspector Sullivan had meant something. Those restrained glances and concerned gazes, those brushing moments of contact and times spent in each other’s company. Sid had known for a while that they’d meant something to him, but he dreamed that maybe they’d meant something to both of them. 

Sid had hoped that he might be good enough one day. Deserving. He’d hoped that one day, a handsome, high-flying man, with a heart of gold hidden beneath a cold hard surface, might fall in love with him. It seems silly now, as Sid trudges onward, his breath hitching and tears running down his face. It seems silly to think that he, an orphaned, petty thief whose primary residence is a caravan in a field, could ever match up to a man like that. Men like Sullivan - respected, principled, and successful - deserve beautiful women with glossy hair and cherry red lips. They deserve soft giggles, lyrical voices, and aspirations. No one like that has want for a man who didn’t finish school, drops his t’s and his g’s, and drinks beer like it’s mother’s milk. 

Sid is really, really crying now. He feels ridiculous for even dreaming. For allowing himself to dream. 

He reaches the crossroads in the centre of the village. If he turns left, he’ll head to the Presbytery. Mrs McCarthy will probably have left him a portion of hotpot on the stove, and his bed will be comfortable and soft. 

If he turns right, he’ll end up at the police cottage. 

It isn’t Sid’s conscious choice when he turns - his feet carry him in the direction of Inspector Sullivan’s house before he even gets a chance to think. 

He can’t walk in a straight line, and bumps into several lampposts, a wall, and a bin on his way. His feet trudge on, his tears track down his face, and his chest wheezes with empty sobs. 

The lights are on in the police cottage when he finally reaches it. 

Sid stumbles down the path to the front door, catching his knee on a plant pot. He knows this is a terrible idea. He knows he should leave and let Sullivan be, but he _can’t._

He raises his hand to knock on the door and sees three versions of it in front of him. 

He can’t remember if he actually goes through with it and knocks, but he must have done because the door swings open and Sullivan is there. 

He looks nice. He’s smiling, actually. He’s not wearing a tie, and his shirt is unbuttoned at the top. His hair is a little ruffled, and he looks relaxed. He looks happy. 

Sid can’t find any words within himself. He just lets out a wretched sob. 

Sullivan’s face drops. “Sid? Sid! What on Earth — Sid!” 

Sid feels arms wrap around him and pull him into the house. He throws his arms around Sullivan in return and sobs into his neck. His cologne smells wonderful but it _hurts._ It hurts so badly because this could be a goodbye.

“Sid? Sid I need you to look at me.” Sullivan sounds concerned, and he’s trying to prize Sid away from him so he can see his face. 

Sid leans back and looks at him properly, wiping his eye with the back of his hand like a little child. “I’m sorry I just can’t bear —“ He cuts himself off as he dissolves into sobs again. 

“You can’t bear what— Sid — Sid, you’re _bleeding_!” Sullivan has taken Sid’s hands in his and turned them over, seeing the heels of his palms scratched up by the fall on the cobbles. “We need to — Just, come and sit down.” Sullivan says. 

He tucks an arm around Sid’s waist and gets him to lean on him heavily. 

They stumble through to the police cottage sitting room. Before Sullivan can get Sid on to his sofa, Sid slowly lowers himself to the floor like it’s too much effort holding himself up. 

Sullivan goes with him, trying to stop him landing too heavily. “Ok, we’re sitting on the floor, alright then, it’s ok, just lean back against the sofa here, look.” 

Sid rests his head in his hands, and leans in to Sullivan’s chest, still crying his eyes out. 

Sullivan rocks him gently from side to side, trying to calm him down. 

“Sid please,” He murmurs. His voice sounds strained an anxious. “You’re scaring me, please tell me what’s going on.” 

Sid looks up at him and sniffs. Sullivan has such beautiful eyes. “I just want you to be happy.” 

Sullivan catches his face before he can drop it down into his hands again. “What do you mean? I am happy?” 

Sid breaks down again. “I know. I know. It’s selfish. I want you to be happy with _me_. But if you can’t it’s ok I’ll — manage.” Sid’s words are slurred and a little incoherent, but Sullivan is sure he’s hearing this properly.

“Sid what on _Earth_ are you talking about? I am happy with— we are—”

“I don’t know I just—“ Sid cuts himself off. The woman he’d seen Sullivan with early is here. She’d come running into the room, holding some strips of cloth and a bowl that smelled strongly of disinfectant. 

Her face is soft, and her forehead is crinkled with worry as she approaches them. 

“Oh, my darling, look at your hands!” She says, settling down beside Sid with a concentrated look on her face. 

“Sid? Sid?” Sullivan says, taking Sid’s face in his hands. “I’m going to go and get you a glass of water and a hanky, alright? Let Ellen clean up your hands, ok? I’ll be back quickly.” He’s trying to hide the shakiness in his voice, and he can’t help but keep looking back at Sid as he leaves the room. 

The woman - Ellen, Sid presumes - takes Sid’s hand in hers and begins wiping at it gently. “This might sting a little, love, but it’ll make it better, I promise.” Her voice is soothing and lyrical, and it makes tears creep out from under Sid’s closed eyelids. 

“I’m sorry — it’s not your fault, I just — you have to look after him, ok? He’s sensitive and he’s _kind,_ and the world has been so cruel to him but he just— I’ll be happy as long as you keep him _safe_.” He gestures blandly at the door. “Just keep his heart safe for me.” 

Ellen’s face only becomes softer. “I’ve always done my best for Tommo, but I’m sure you know as well as I do that he’s a difficult man to handle.” She laughs tenderly, and drops her tone like she’s sharing a secret. “In all honesty, I don’t think he wants _me_ to keep him safe anymore. I think he’d much rather _you_ had that job.” She winks. 

Sid gapes. His mind is slow at processing things a lot of the time, least of all when he’s exceptionally drunk. “What d’you mean?” 

“I mean,” She starts wrapping a bandage around his hand, “A big sister’s love can only go so far. I’ve looked after him all these years but he’s had enough of me already.” 

“You’re his — you’re his _sister_?” 

“That I am. Can’t you tell? We’ve always been told we look alike.” 

Now she says it, Sid can tell. They have the same glossy dark hair, same sparkling blue eyes. The same concerned crinkle between their eyebrows, and even the same noses if you disregard Sullivan’s crookedness. 

Sullivan hurries back into the room and drops down at Sid’s side. That anxious line, mirroring his sister’s, is still in place between his eyebrows and Sid itches to reach out and smooth it for him. 

Sullivan takes the handkerchief and blots gently at Sid’s eyes. 

“You have a sister?” Sid asks hoarsely, pointing vaguely at Ellen. 

“I have two.” Sullivan smiles. “Ruth lives out in America now, with a handsome G.I. she met during the war. Ellen lives in Kent.” 

“Ruth and I are much older than Tommo.” Ellen elaborates.

“Wouldn’t have guessed.” Sid hums blearily,“Wouldn’t have said you were a day over twenty one. Thought you were twins.” He points between the siblings. 

Ellen breaks out into peels of laughter. She claps her hands. “This one. I like this one.” 

Although they’re alike in looks, she’s quite different from Sullivan. Far more boisterous and far less reserved. 

Sullivan smiles weakly, before picking up the glass of water and gently guiding it to Sid’s lips. “Here. You need to have a drink of this.” 

Sid is unexpectedly thirsty, and gulps down most of the water in one go. 

“Better?” Sullivan asks. His voice is still a little fraught. His hand has stayed cupping Sid’s cheek, steadying him. 

“Yeah.” Sid croaks. “Wait… if you have sisters, how are you so useless with women?” 

Ellen bursts out into cackles again. “Oh, he’s really got you there.” She nudges her brother with her elbow. 

Sullivan brushes a caring thumb over Sid’s cheekbone. “Ellen is ten years older than me, and Ruth, thirteen. I was very young when they left home.” 

“Our mother died when Tommo was five. I wish I could’ve —“ Ellen looks truly sad for a moment. “I wish I could’ve taken him with me. Both Ruth and I wished we could. I’m sure you know that our father is not the most… fatherly. We’ve always tried to stay close, but we had to leave home and get jobs. Both of us moved all around the country and we barely made it home once a year. The result was that Tommo grew up mostly with our father.” 

“I don’t blame you. Either of you. You were teenagers, for goodness sake. Father’s… lacking qualities aren’t your fault.” Sullivan purses his lips. 

Ellen purses her lips. “I know, but still. You were a sweet and happy little boy, Tommo. I know going to war at eighteen changes a man, but you’d changed before that too. I know Father put immense pressure on you, as his only son. I know he still does. And as your sister, I wish I could’ve protected you from that.” 

Sid had thought they weren’t so similar in personality, but it’s clear that Ellen has the Sullivan stubbornness. 

Ellen turns to Sid and squeezes his knee. “That’s why I’m glad he has you. He lights up when he talks about you, you know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so —“ 

Sullivan claps a hand over Ellen’s mouth. “Yes! Thank you, that’s quite enough.” He says, a blush climbing up his face. 

Sid grins lopsidedly. “You talk about me?” 

Ellen rolls her eyes. “Ugh, all the time. Carter this, Carter that. I’ve been dying to meet you, he’s hopelessly in love with you, you know.” 

Sid’s jaw drops. Even with still-very-drunk ears, he heard that loud and clear. 

Sullivan looks torn between murder and fleeing the country.

“Oh. _Oh_. Sorry. Did you not — I thought you’d told him.” 

Sullivan has turned beet red. 

“’s it— ’s it true?” Sid asks, gazing up at Sullivan now. 

Sullivan looks caught. 

Ellen is trying to look guilty, but there’s poorly disguised delight on her face. 

Sullivan realises that the cat is out of the bag, really. He might as well face it. “Well… yes,” He whispers. “You see Carter— I rather think I might be in love with you.” 

His eyes are so clear and so pure, but they also look _afraid_. Almost like they think there’s a possibility that Sid doesn’t feel the same. 

Sid chuckles tiredly and knocks his head against Sullivan’s chest. “Stupid. ‘Course I’m in love with you. Always have been.” 

“Are you calling me _stupid_ , Carter? After I’ve confessed that I’m in love with you?” 

“Nooo…” Sid pouts. “Well, maybe a little. I’m stupid too. I thought you had a girlfriend. Thought _Ellen_ was your girlfriend. Wasn’t lyin’ when I said she doesn’t look a day over twenty one.” 

“You thought— You —” Sullivan says, pressing his forehead into Sid’s. “Is that why you got drunk?” 

Sid refuses to make eye contact. “Maybe…” 

Sullivan lets out a heavy sigh. “I don’t like you getting yourself into trouble. Promise me that you won’t do anything like this again… You have no idea how I felt seeing you bleeding and sobbing on my doorstep.” 

“I promise.” Sid says, smiling. He nuzzles into Sullivan’s neck. This is nice. 

Ellen watches them fondly. She lets them have a few moments before she launches into full big sister mode. “Come on you two,” She chivvies cheerily, “I think we could all do with a good night’s sleep.” 

Sullivan helps Sid to his feet, grinning as they sway into each other. “I’ll walk you back to the Presbytery.” 

“Why can’t he just stay here?” Ellen asks. 

“You’re taking up the spare room.” Sullivan answers. 

“Yes,” Ellen looks at him like he’s devoid of brain cells. “But isn’t there room with you?” 

Sullivan blushes furiously again as Sid makes an attempt at wiggling his eyebrows. “I suppose there is.” 

Sid lets out a quiet “Waheyy!” but quietens down to a grin when he sees the look on Sullivan’s face. He pulls himself together enough to ask “Could I… use your telephone I think the Father wants to keep an eye on me. Also if you’ve got any leftovers I’d be more than grateful. ‘M hungry now.” 

“ _I_ will ring the Father and let him know you are in safe hands.” Sullivan says exasperatedly. “Ellen, if you wouldn’t mind leading Carter to the fridge.” He dreads to think what Father Brown will say when he hears this. He’s going to be _insufferable._ But, as he watches Ellen and Sid stagger towards the kitchen, laughing and joking and getting along like a house on fire, Sullivan thinks that it’ll be worth it. 

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you enjoyed! <3


End file.
